Today I am aware of many thoughts and ideas swirling in my head, percolating in my spirit. As sometimes happens, zeroing in on one and holding it still long enough to write about it can be challenging. It’s a bit like wrangling cattle, trying to separate an animal from the herd so you can provide medical treatment or move it to a different location. I am trying to sort from a number of different things, and as you are reading along, I reckon you’re sorting with me.
The other evening I wrote about what I called seasonal grieving–when feelings of sadness recur each year around anniversaries of certain traumatic events. While I was grateful for understanding the source of some of the sadness I’d been feeling, I still feel the sadness nonetheless. I am delighted by the “ah ha” and yet affected by the “oh me.” Nevertheless I am still glad to understand where the feelings are coming from.
Two years ago today (Saint Patrick’s Day, 2011) I got blindsided by one of the most painful experiences I’ve endured in many, many years. To this day it is something I can only talk about with family and a few close friends who knew what happened and helped me through it. The affects of the trauma are still very real to me today. Let me be clear that I was not a victim of a crime or some physical violence against my person; but it was more so emotional battering by people I’d expected better from. The feeling of helplessness as the situation unraveled and the speed at which everything happened left me reeling for quite some time. As I now ponder the notion of seasonal grief, I am very much aware of today’s anniversary and the emotional impact that the precipitating event still has on me two years removed.
BUT…I am grateful to be standing strong in spite of the aftereffects of the dramas and traumas of the first half of 2011. I am still recovering a sense of equanimity and peace: each and every square inch of ground I’ve gained has been hard fought, but won. I have more ground to make up, but I’m progressing steadily if slowly. This isn’t a sprint, it’s an endurance race, and I’ve fallen a few times along the way. And, I’ve gotten back up, brushed the gravel off my scraped up knees and hands, and gotten back into the race. You can too.
Everywhere I look it seems like people are struggling, suffering in one way or another. My friend came over to see me the other day–she needed to run away from home for a little while and be someplace where she didn’t have to pretend to be fine. She could be cranky if she needed to and she let me be cranky if I needed to. We were able to talk a little and though we didn’t solve anything I hope she at least benefited from being in the space. I am glad to have been able to provide that space for her and told her she could avail herself of it any time. It’s about being safe and held and protected by someone who loves you for exactly who you are on the inside–your heart and spirit–and lets you yell or cry or even throw things if you need to (though my friend probably wouldn’t want to do something so out of control…) And then we can laugh about the absurdity of it all. We all need spaces like that in our lives, I know I do and will take advantage of it when offered.
I hear stories from various friends and family about how things seem to be difficult right now, almost unexplainable, unusual struggles. There’s some comfort in there because I believe that we’re hurtling toward change; not some cataclysmic event, but a shifting from a place of struggle and suffering to an easing into something better. I am not entirely sure why I believe this–perhaps I am simply unwilling to accept that good people who are doing good work trying to care for themselves, their families, and their communities have to struggle so hard. Something has to break forth, soon.
I am grateful for the events that took place two years ago today. The deep pain of that day has not gone completely away, though it has diminished. Something strong was forged in the fires of that experience that will be part of me for the rest of my life, and that is a good thing. It is good to be able to stay, “I’m still standing.” I might be a little wobbly, but once I struggled to my feet, I stood and I’ll keep standing. And you will too. Here’s my hand…
